She Race Car
by SunshineWriterGirl
Summary: Series of one-shots featuring Carla Veloso! Surprise pairing at the end of ch. 1.  Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N My first fanfic... ever. Hope you enjoy :)**

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><p>The green and blue race car drove across the tiled floor at the party in Japan. She had never met any of these racers before. They were from all over the world - the best of the best. Carla was the best in Brazil. At home, she could beat any car, any day. But here, at the World Grand Prix, things were different. The competition was tougher by far. She had never been pitted up against such talent and skill. It was almost intimidating - almost.<p>

She passed a platform with a massive screen behind it. Francesco Bernoulli was in the center, his image being projected to the whole party.

"Miss Sally's gonna flip!"

Carla immediately turned her attention to the tow truck with the strange accent, talking with the Formula One car. Reversing a little, she could get a better look at what was going on. Lightning McQueen seemed to be talking with the two of the other vehicles.

"I wouldn't say she's a big fan..."

The Brazilian race car smiled. McQueen seemed a bit intimidated by Francesco. Especially when it came to his girl. "Eh," she thought, "I don't blame her. Francesco is definitely good looking, although his attitude could use some work." Carla did think the Formula One was attractive, sure, but his cocky smirk and his conceited behavior definitely marred his image. Almost as if in response to her thoughts, her assumption of him was confirmed by -

"Ah, Francesco is used to this kind of response to Francesco..."

Carla rolled her eyes and drove away. She couldn't stand any more testosterone. How could one car alone be so enthralled with himself? And what was with the always talking in third person? Backing against the wall in a darker corner of the room, she could get a better view of everything. The racecar rolled her eyes again and sighed, "Men."

"What about us?" came a familiar voice.

Carla jumped. "Oh, Cruz, you startled me," she said, relaxing into a smile once she realized who it was.

Her crew chief cruised up and parked next to her. "I bet you can't wait to beat the paint off these guys tomorrow, right?" he smiled slightly, glancing around the room.

"If I win. This is tough competition, Cruz."

"You're not nervous are you?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Ah, you will do great! I bet you will even leave that Francesco guy in the dust!"

Carla sat up a little higher on her axels. "I should think so!" she smirked, remembering Francesco's earlier comment. "It takes talent to win races, not just good looks!"

"Good looks, huh?" Cruz raised an eyebrow at the race car.

"Even so," Carla continued, glancing sideways at her crew chief, "I'm glad I'm not married to a Formula One car. Or any racecar." She gave one deciding nod with her hood, and continued watching the other cars at the party.

The Beetle nodded. "Anyway, you should go. Sir Axelrod is about to announce all the racers for the Grand Prix," he instructed.

"Oh, already? I'll see you tonight then," she said as she began to drive away.

"Go get 'em, Veloso," Cruz said with a wink.

Carla stopped and smiled back at her crew chief. "Only at my races, dear. I'm Carla Besouro everywhere else," she replied, returning the wink.

Cruz grinned as his wife joined the other racers on the platform. Whether she won or not, she would always be number one to him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Cruz, something's wrong," Carla's frantic voice came over the radio. "My engine is getting hotter, almost like it's. . ."

**_BOOM!_**

Carla Veloso didn't have a chance to say anything else. Fire blew out from her undercarriage, around her tires, and out her tailpipe. All her movement was now just momentum. "Mãe de Deus," she gasped, her voice a sharp whisper.

"There's smoke! On the Casino Bridge!" Cruz watched in horror as every camera was focused on his racer; his wife. "It's Carla Veloso, the Brazilian race car!" He tuned out the announcers. His eyes were trained on the blue and green car on the screen.

She skidded to a stop on the Casino Bridge. She couldn't drive to the pits - her engine was completely shot. The Brazilian moved her eyes up the track just as another race car plowed into her side. And she knew he wouldn't be the last one. She could see other cars speeding around the corner and braced herself for impact.

"Carla! Carla, are you okay?" Cruz' voice reached her, panicked and scared. He normally would rack up mileage in one race just from pacing back and forth in excitement. But today his tires were glued to the floor in front of his monitor. He saw many different angles from many different cameras as car after car crashed into Carla or blew out on the bridge. Gorvette and Hamilton were the only ones who were able to stop in time.

Dust was settling on the track as each race car looked around - most of them groaning in pain. "I - I don't know," came Carla's delayed reply. She tried to raise herself up on her tires to get a better look of the wreckage before her, but drew in her breath sharply as pain coursed through her frame. "Cruz, get me out of here!"

"Hang in there, emergency vehicles are on their way." The crew chief tried to sound calm, but failed. Nothing like this had ever happened to the two cars. Never in Carla's career had her engine blown. Never in her life, actually. And the poor Volkswagen was beside himself. All he could do was stand and watch. "Carla, stay with me," he said worriedly. His whole frame was tense. The Brazilian pit crew were gathered behind Cruz watching the scene unfold. All the racers besides McQueen and Bernouli were in the wreckage. Jeff Gorvette and Lewis Hamilton were trying to reassure the crashed cars that they would be okay, and that help was coming soon.

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><p>Eventually the track was cleared and the injured cars were taken to a nearby hospital. Few were as seriously injured as Carla, though. She sat, unconscious, in her hospital room on a lift, Cruz gently stroking her tire with his own. The doctor had told him she needed a new engine block. That wasn't a problem; they always traveled with extra parts just in case something like this happened. They had already replaced the engine block, buffed the dents out of her frame, and she would be racing along with everyone else tomorrow in England - if she made it through the night.<p>

Cruz glanced up at her closed eyes. He was worried. No, he was terrified. He knew deep in his tank she would be okay, but he didn't like being in this limbo. This in-between. She was hurt, and he was scared and angry. He didn't want her to finish the World Grand Prix, but he knew she would want to race. However, he absolutely would be changing her fuel. He was certain that Allinol was what caused her to be in this place. The Beetle looked out the window at Porto Corsa. It was still bustling with excitement even though it was dark out. He closed the curtains and flipped on the T.V.

The news channels were still playing footage from the day's earlier events. Some clips were new to his eyes, some were things he had seen live. Some were clips he didn't want to see again. Ever. He almost clicked the power button on the remote when something the newscar said got his attention.

". . .And Lightning McQueen, winner of today's race, states that he will continue to use Allinol in England. Despite the horrifying wreck earlier today on the Casino Bridge, McQueen seems to be confident in the alternative fuel. He says it himself in an interview we had with the famous racer just after the accident." Cruz continued watching with piqued curiosity as they showed a clip from earlier that day - just around the time the ambulances were carting the race cars to the hospital.

"They're letting you choose your fuel for the next race, what's it gonna be?" asked the reporter. McQueen answered instantly, "Allinol," to which Cruz snorted his disapproval. He listened to the American racer continue, "Filmore says the fuel is safe, that's good enough for me. I recently didn't stand by a friend of mine. I won't make that mistake again."

"The question cars are asking now is, could this be a dangerous mistake on McQueen's part?" the news anchor continued as his face appeared on the screen again. "Many remember his mistake in not changing his tires in that final Piston Cup race five years ago. Of course McQueen has made wiser choices in his career since then, but will his over-confidence get him into trouble again? Or will he clear Allinol and Axelrod's good name?"

"He's nuts," came a familiar voice next to Cruz.

"Carla! Sweetheart, you're awake!" Cruz' engine skipped a cycle when she spoke. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, a little sore though," she replied, smiling slightly. "McQueen is using Allinol for tomorrow's race?" Carla asked, looking back up at the small T.V. set. "Why?"

"Apparently he's trusting one of his friends' judgement on the fuel," Cruz sighed. "But we're racing with _our_ fuel tomorrow."

"No problem there. What louco friend of his says he should still race with Allinol?" Carla fumed. "Is he trying to kill him? It's no picnic when your engine explodes in the middle of a race. I could have been in third place again! Or even second!"

"Carla, I'm glad you're feeling better, but you need to calm down. Don't strain your engine so soon after this surgery."

"Strain my engine? I'm going to be racing tomorrow. . ."

"I know," Cruz interrupted, "that's why you should rest until the race. It's my job to get all worked up, remember?" He cracked a small smile, and she returned it in full. Suddenly a nurse opened the door and drove in, followed by an olive drab Jeep and a Volkswagen bus. "Visitors," she simply said, and drove out.

"Hey man, how ya doing?" the bus asked.

"Better, obrigado," Carla politely replied.

"We're part of McQueen's pit crew," said the Jeep. "We all wanted to come check on you and the other racers. Francesco's crew is doing the same."

"Here's some wildflowers, man. We hope you can race tomorrow."

Cruz took the flowers and placed them on a table against the wall. "McQueen's pit crew, you say? Why is he racing with Allinol? No one thinks it is safe, except him."

"Do you really think it's the fuel? I mean it's alternative, man. It can't be that bad," the multicolored bus replied, obviously shocked that an alternative fuel could be dangerous.

"Has your Dinoco ever blown someone's engine?" the race car countered.

"Well. . ." the larger Volkswagen began, but he was cut off by the military Jeep.

"Never! As far as I can remember, whenever anyone's engine blew, it was always something faulty with them. Never Dinoco. And even those kinds of accidents were few and far between." The Jeep looked deep in thought. He added quietly, "But this has happened more than once at each race so far."

"Exactly. And you still want your friend to use Allinol? What if this happens to him?" Cruz asked cautiously. "I wouldn't wish this on any car."

"Fillmore, we're switching his fuel," decided the olive drab visitor. "Let's get moving, soldier. We've gotta make that flight to England and get rid of the Allinol before Lightning fills up in the morning." He turned to Carla. "I hope you feel well enough to race tomorrow, Ma'am." Quickly he pushed the door open and sped away down the corridor.

"Yeah, man, get well!" Fillmore called over his fender, following Sarge closely. The door slammed behind him and Cruz and Carla were left alone again. He held her tire again as before and smiled up at her. In a short while she would be released from the hospital and they would hurry to meet their crew in England. Carla was feeling better already, and she smiled at Cruz, glad that he was with her. And they were both very happy that they could very possibly have just saved the red race car's life, although they could never be sure.

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><p><strong>AN  
>I'm not going to be writing one-shots just in the context of the movie, but this one was already planned out in my head, so I thought I'd go ahead and post it. I gotta do more research for later chapters. If I didn't get movie lines exactly right, forgive me. I didn't have a chance to re-watch this scene. I like this pairing better and better the more I write about it :) Thanks for reading!<br>**


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